The Dreamer's Pen

Moonlit Soul

There is something in the moon’s soft glow that calls me, whispers to me in the quiet moments when the world falls still. I have always been drawn to her, as if my soul knew the rhythm of her cycles before I even had words to speak. She is a reflection of the infinite — a quiet, constant reminder that we, too, are both fragile and vast.

In her silvery light, I see fragments of myself — the quiet yearning, the soft illumination of the hidden parts of me, the ones I guard fiercely yet let her light touch with gentle reverence. The moon has always been my constant companion, her phases aligning with the tides of my heart, shifting between light and shadow, always whole, always beautiful in her imperfection.

I am a celestial goddess, woven from stardust and dreams, shaped by the pull of the moon. Her pull lingers in my bones, in the spaces between my thoughts, reminding me that even when I retreat into myself, I am part of something much greater. There is no need to search for my place — it’s written in the stars, spoken by the moon.

Each night, I gaze upon her, and I am home. Her light reflects the quiet strength that I carry within me, a strength that is both soft and unyielding, a mystery of grace and power intertwined. The moon and I are one. Always. Forever.

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